What Ales You
by MorbidbyDefault
Summary: Molly is forced to find a second job. Sherlock always misses something. What happens when he finally catches up?
1. Chapter 1

K, this is probably my third attempt at this plotline, so hopefully it's not total crap. Please review, either good or bad, if it comes to that. Lol. Anyway, rating is M for adult themes, and most likely some cussing and oohlala's later on.I don't own anything, which is always sad to have to write. But there you have it. Any who...

Enjoy!

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''What do you mean you're raising the rent again?" Molly shouted into the speaker end of her phone. Her landlord was not the most professional man on his best days. He often raised the price to rent out her small flat, but never bothered to keep it in running order. Molly's face flushed red with anger as she listened to the man's ''reasoning'' behind the inflation.

''I can barely afford it now as it is!'' She hollered again, pacing a groove in the floor of St. Bart's morgue. Finally, when she had heard enough, she hung up the phone, before getting a chance to mutter where her landlord could shove his higher rate.

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Sherlock Holmes and John Watson had been on a case that morning. Every so often, Sherlock allowed John to pick out a case. It was never an interesting one, but then again, he had a feeling that John did that deliberately. They had finished with the case of a young man's missing laptop, it was the roommate's idiot girlfriend. Sherlock and John sat in the back of the cab driving to Bart's. John grinned as he felt Sherlock's mind stewing over the morning's events.

''Why on earth do you have to pick the most boring of cases, John? Honestly, I may as well have Anderson accompany me on outings. What an utter waste of time.'' Sherlock finally spoke, clearly agitated with his flatmate. John merely rolled his eyes and looked out the opposite window. The cab arrived shortly after, Sherlock still refusing to utter a word as they crawled out. Sherlock paid the cabbie, and they walked inside. Once they reached the doors to the morgue, Sherlock had decided to remove the wall of silence that separated John from himself. He flung open the doors, and waltzed through. John followed behind, chuckling at the theatrics of his friend's entrance. This was shortly cut off by the sound of something whizzing past his head and crashing into the wall behind him.

''Oh, oh dear God. I am so sosososo sorry, John.'' Molly immediately flew to his side, where he stood, clearly shocked. He nodded, as if telling her it was alright. She then walked over to where the thing had crashed, and began picking up the pieces. John looked to Sherlock, who seemed uninterested, but was rather waiting impatiently by the body lockers. Molly had placed the remnants on the counter by the door, and John could clearly make out three pieces of a screen from a phone. His eyes followed her as she walked to Sherlock's side.

''Ah, hello Molly. I need to take a look at this man's gout. Experiment.'' Sherlock stated, waiting expectantly next to a locker. Molly heaved a sigh, before opening it, and wheeling out the large body. She had turned to continue with her paperwork, when she screeched to a halt at his next words.

''Cup of coffee, while you're at it. Black, two sugars.'' He said, not looking up from the fat man's feet. Molly wheeled herself around and quickly pushed the cart into its hole, before slamming the door shut, nearly hitting Sherlock's face.

''Get your own damned coffee.'' She said, her eyes venomous. She turned around and quickly grabbed her bag, before storming out of the morgue. John's eyes glanced back to Sherlock after she left, and stifled a grin. Sherlock's face was one of pure confusion, unblinking, and a bit scared.

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Molly sighed as she walked through the line of the cafeteria. She grabbed a cup of coffee, and then a second one. She hadn't meant to bark at him like that, but, well, sometimes he had it coming. She prepared his cup for him and then began to walk back to the morgue, she looked out the window in thought.

''What am I going to do?"

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That evening, Molly had been flipping through the stations on her old set, nothing intriguing on. She settled for an old episode of Miss Marple, while she began flipping through the want ads in the paper. Her eyes scrolled the long columns, not pleased with any of the viable job offers. Her eyes came to the end of the last column, when she saw it. A small, three-liner, in the lower corner.

Evening positions available. No experience required.  
Inquire at 64 Shoreditch High Street.

She clipped the ad out and placed it in her wallet. 'Tomorrow.' She thought to herself, before dozing off.

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The next day, Molly woke to the sound of her alarm chiming. It had been her day off, yet she had been so intrigued, she wanted an early start on this job inquery. Molly had dressed in a semi-professional manner. She wore a pair of dark blue dress slacks, with a ruffled purple top. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, and tucked a loose strand behind her ear. It would take around 15 minutes to reach the address by cab, so she called ahead for one. Shortly thereafter, she was climbing into the back of the car, and on her way. She clutched the tiny ad in her fingertips, reading over the words time and time again. When she arrived, she paid the cab driver and then turned to walk into the building. She gazed up at the sign, and took a deep breath as she opened the door.

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Well, who is going to Google map the address now? Lol. It is a real place, and it's the only hint you get this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. Please don't forget to review. And also check out the other fics I have, all two of them. Lol. Thanks dears! 


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the support! I'm glad it's being received well. Thank you for the reviews from:

Maharet97: thank you for reading, and for thinking it's interesting. Lol. Sorry your account defunked on you. It happens.

Moriarty-Florence Moriarty: lol. Shocked, really? Come on, my brain is weird, I'm glad you like it already. Hope you like the next chapter!

Nocturnias: lol, for some reason, oohlalas seemed to cover a larger area of adult themes, given the plot. Hope you enjoy it. I am a HUGE fan of your stuff, so this is kind of like a fangirl moment for me. :D

Thestarlitrose: lol...what do you think? The answer is yes. Yes she is.

Ligya Ford-Northman: Congrats, you win an ecookie! And yes, I put her through a lot, but all in the name of entertainment. Lol.

And now, my dears, I present to you, Chapter 2!

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Sherlock sat in his easy chair, his mind brewing over the previous day's events. He had not moved from the spot since early that morning. His mind played and replayed Molly's actions and words. Finally, he let out an exasperated sigh. John looked up from his chair, folding the corner of the newspaper over to see Sherlock's disgruntled face.

''What is it?" He asked, not really caring for the answer.

''She's never been so...uncooperative.'' Sherlock said, his face contorted with confusion. Or was it frustration? He wasn't sure, but John was sure of one thing, somehow, Molly Hooper had infiltrated Sherlock's mental room of puzzles to be solved. He looked over at his friend, who was running his hands wildly through his hair.

''Pupils retracted, heightened breathing, angry expression, and she kept doing that thing.'' He mumbled to himself, working through all of Molly's body language signals.

''What are you on about over there?"

''Thinking John. She was thinking, quite loudly, it was obnoxious.'' He retorted. ''What could she be thinking so fervently about?" He toyed with the factors internally, occasionally muttering things about her face, or the phone she had thrown.

''I'll leave you to your deductions, then.'' John said, smiling at Sherlock. He received no response as he turned to the door, grabbed his coat, and left the flat. 'I'll go have lunch with Mary.' He thought to himself, making his way toward the main street to hail a cab.

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Molly stepped in through the large black door and looked around. She didn't see anyone at first. Then, behind the bar, a short chubby man stood up. He looked at Molly, and immediately smiled at her, motioning for her to come in further. She gazed around taking in the sight of the room. The seats were a beautiful wood grain with dark green upholstery. The bar gleamed, reflecting the light off the glasses that dangled from the hangers. Molly could see from one side that the room continued into a larger room through two large wooden and glass windowed doors. She approached the bar, and smiled at the short man.

''Um, hi. I was just stopping by, I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the open position. I found a snip in yesterday's want ads section.'' She stated sweetly. The man smiled up at her with a wide, granfatherly grin. Molly could see he was missing two of his teeth, she almost giggled at his fun smile.

''Oh yea, you'll be wantin' to speak with Miss Bianca, then.'' He held up a finger, signifying for her to wait. He then hobbled from around the bar, waddling back and forth. Molly smiled again. 'What a sweet old man.' She thought.

''BIANCA!" The old gentleman yelled into the adjacent room. Shortly there after, a tall, blonde woman strode through the doorway, carrying herself in an almost regal manner.

''Ah, here she be now. Bianca, this sweet little lass was wonderin' about the position. Oh, where be me manners? Miss, this is Madame Bianca Glauer, renowned dance instructor and coreoghraphing genius. Miss Bianca, this be..erm. sorry, love, I didn't catch your name.'' He made flourishing movements when introducing the tall woman, and Molly nearly felt the need to curtsey.

''I'm Molly Hooper. It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame.'' She held out her hand to greet the woman, but was instead denied.

''And I'm Paul, should you be needin' anythin'.'' He bowed at his stumped waist, before wobbling back to attend the bar. Molly followed him with her eyes, before the tall woman spoke sharply.

''Stand up straight.'' She snapped the order, and Molly quickly obliged. The lady's accent sounded very peculiar. 'Norwegian, maybe Swedish.' Molly had made a mental note. The woman held onto a beautiful cane, with a diamond encrusted doll's head on the tip. A moment passed, and she spoke again.

''Turn about for me.'' Molly slowly turned, making sure she didn't slouch. She saw Madame Bianca nod to herself, contemplating.

''Tell me, Molly. Have you ever danced before?" She asked, her accent coming out in exotic lilts. Molly nodded her head before explaining,

''Yes, ma'am. I used to dance ballet when I was young. From age four until I reached university.'' She spoke, still slowly making her spin for the Madame. Bianca held her hand up, wordlessly telling Molly to stop. She approached Molly, and was nearly nose to nose with her. She looked Molly's frame up and down, before nodding again.

''Yea, yes I can work with this. Come, follow.'' She snapped again, turning and walking through the doorway she had entered through. Molly straightened her back and swiftly followed. Upon entering the other room, she quickly realized what she had gotten herself into. There, at the end of the room, was a stage. Full length mirrors ran up and down the wall, creating the backdrop. In the center of the stage, there was a long, silver pole, standing from ceiling to floor. Molly gulped nervously as she slowly caught up to Miss Bianca.

''Now, we train you, try you out, and if you are well received, you get double starting pay plus tips.'' Bianca said, turning to see Molly staring around the room. Molly nodded, clearly awestruck.

''And how much is starting pay?" Molly asked, as her eyes grazed past the surface of the stage.

''£1. Per customer.'' Came the reply. Molly's head swiveled around. Her eyes widened with shock.

''Per person? How many people frequent your, erm...venue? If I may ask.'' She questioned, still trying to sound professional. Bianca grinned before answering.

''Oh, usually we have about 60 to 70. That's during the weekdays. It gets a bit crazier on the weekends. Parties, conference, business meetings.'' She said with a wink. Molly had to try very hard to keep her chin from falling to the floor.

''So, Molly Hooper, what do you say? Are you up for the challenge. I must warn, I train my girls very hard, and I critique severely.'' Bianca stared at the young woman expectantly. Molly chewed on her lower lip for a moment. 'I can't exactly say no, not with that kind of money on the line. It's worth a shot.' She argued all the pro's and con's in her head. Then, she turned and stuck her hand straight out to Madme Bianca.

''I'll take it.'' She said firmly, and they shook in agreement.

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Well, thanks for reviewing, and reading. Hope you keep up with it, I definitely have more of an idea where I'm going with the plot now. Later dears! 


	3. Chapter 3

Alright, new shoutouts and answering to reviews:

Zali: here's more...hope you like it. :D

Nocturnias: it's very true. I have about 5 different ways I want to take it, and they all freaking crack me up. Lol. And don't worry, I have no intentions of ending this one prematurely. Thank you for the ongoing feedback and encouragement. I really do live off of reviews. So keep them coming.

And to:

TheSilentPresence: lol, your comment made ME bounce around in my seat. It's the lazy happy dance. Hope you like the new chapter.

Alright my wonderful peoples, are you ready for the next chapter...

Aaaaannnnd GO!

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The first person Molly told, of course, was her best friend, Mary Morstan. Mary had been the only one she ever intended on finding out about her second occupation. Molly and Mary had met through the hospital. Molly was a pathologist. Mary was not a nurse or doctor at all, but rather, a private tutor for the pediatrics wing. Mary loved children, but Molly was inherently nervous around them. Mary had another connection to Molly, in that, she was dating one Dr. John Watson.

''You can't tell him, Mary. I know you tell each other everything, but this one is top secret!" Molly sat across the cafeteria table from the young woman. Mary smiled, and nodded her head dramatically.

''I know, I know! You can count on me! So, you are really doing this then? Like, the whole thing? Pole dancing, swinging your top off, flashing the goods...thing?" Molly poke, a mile a minute, it sometimes seemed. Molly giggled at her friend's phrasing. She nodded her head, before explaining the details.

''Well, it's not guaranteed I'll even last that long. Madame Bianca said I have a shot. It's nice, since it doesn't conflict with my hours here, and hey, maybe I'll drop those two pounds that Sherlock is always so avidly reminding me of.'' Molly chuckled, but Mary saw past the mask.

''Oh, Molly. Don't listen to him. He's crabby and alone. You deserve someone much more...human than he is.'' She stated pointedly. Molly just grinned in response. Suddenly, Mary's face lit up. ''Idea! We have to take you shopping! You need new um...work..outfits?" She said, unsure of how better to say lingerie. Molly and Mary both laughed, as they grabbed up their trays and exited the cafeteria.

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A few weeks had passed, and Molly had trained at The White Horse every day after her shift at the hospital ended. Molly was beginning to understand how to use her body's shape to her advantage. She was even picking up on using the pole, and had therefore slimmed down, building up her strength. Miss Bianca had told her to take a day's rest. Her muscles thanked her for that.

''I've just got to stop by John's flat and pick up a few things I left there. You don't mind, right?" Mary said, getting into the cab. Molly shook her head, trying not to seem thrilled at the chance to see Sherlock. The two women had met after their shifts at Bart's, and agreed the shopping was just the ticket. As the cab pulled up, Molly could see John walk past the window, obviously distraught at something...or someone. The women walked up the steps to 221B, and upon entering, saw that the flat was in ruins. Sherlock sat in his chair, as John huffed back and forth, flinging stacks of papers from one table to another.

''Where are they, Sherlock? I know they're here, and I promise, once I find them, I'm flushing them!" John hollered, as he continued back and forth. Mary and Molly looked at each other, before Mary knocked on the door frame and cleared her throat. John turned around, suddenly embarrassed at his rampage.

''Mary, darling, I'm so sorry. Somebody's got a stash of cigarettes hidden, and he won't tell me where they are. We had an agreement that he was to be quitting.'' He said. He reached to where Mary stood, and gave her a peck on the cheek. Sherlock sat in the background, scoffing to himself. Molly peered from behind the happy pair, catching Sherlock's eye. Immediately, his analytical brain seared, taking in all of the subtle changes to the small pathologist. His eyes gleamed, as his brain put the pieces of the puzzle together. Suddenly, Sherlock was out of his chair, in direct route of Molly.

''Ah, Molly. Hello. So good to see you. I have finally solved the riddle of why you were so moody that day in the morgue. I admit I should have seen it earlier, but I wasn't paying proper attention.'' Molly's eyes widened slightly. 'Oh no, please don't do this.' She thought. John and Mary both gave Sherlock a glance of warning, one that he ignored, as he continued.

''You were obviously upset with someone. Throwing your phone across the room meant someone not related, you wouldn't have been so drastic had it been your mother or sister, so someone of a professional contract. The staff of Bart's is all located here, at least your direct superiors. You would have avoided a scene by simply speaking to them in the privacy of your office, or their's. So, that leaves one other option, your landlord. Vile, creep of a man, slumming his tenants' money every other month, and never fixing the leaky faucets. However, you haven't been in a foul mood for the past three weeks, so therefore, are no longer stressing over the lack of funding dilemma. You found a second job. Going by your tired face at the morgue, I'd say evening job, hard work too. You've lost nearly five pounds since starting. Your sweater smells mildly of beer. You work at a pub or diner, then. So, naturally, pub and/or diner, handling beverages that may spill on your sweater, the updated tone in your arms and torso, sleep deprivation and obvious second occupation; you are a waitress." He finished, taking a deep, slow drink of air. Both Molly and Mary just looked at him, unblinking. John's eyes looked positively dangerous as he shot Sherlock an authoritative glare. John was about to say something, when Molly spoke up.

''Well done, then. Do you feel proud? Lord knows I can never get anything by you, Sherlock.'' She said, before turning to John. ''It was good to see you again, John. Mary, I'll just wait downstairs for you.'' She turned to leave, not glancing back at any of the three, mainly for fear that they would catch sight of her wide and brimming grin. A few minutes later, Mary descended the stairs, and the two crawled into the cab, on their way to have fun. A few moments of silence passed, before Mary spoke.

''He got it wrong!" She said, sounding more confused than matter of factly. Molly grinned over at her, before breaking into a full blown smile. Mary started laughing, unable to believe it.

''No, Molly...he got it REALLY BLOODY WRONG!'' She laughed even harder. The man had no clue. Molly shook her head, the laughter dying a bit.

''For what it's worth, he did get most of it right, just not the key fact.'' She said, before bursting into another fit of giggles. The pair spent the rest of the evening trying on different under garments; Molly, for her ''waitressing'' job, and Mary, for her ''job'' assisting Dr. Watson.

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Oh Sherlock, how very clever of you, as ever you observe, but do not get it. Lol. Hope you all like it. Review! Check out stories from people who are pretty awesome, namely the people who have reviewed my stories. Thanks for the continued support, I thoroughly appreciate it. Good evening loves, I must alas depart to bed, for work calleth at an ungratefully early hour. BYE!


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for reviews from:

Temperance Hotryenwod: I'm glad you like the story. Don't worry, your English is better than most of the people I know, and I'm from the U.S. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy this next chapter!

CowMow: yes, i love the rare occasion when he's wrong.

Noctturnias: lol...mentally, it's going to be a good chapter.

and Juze: welcome to the story, glad you found it. Enjoy!

Onto Chapter Four:

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It had been a month since Molly had taken the job at The White Horse. Her debut show was that evening, and she'd invited Mary, naturally. Mary had giggled, and said she would be there, despite the awkwardness of seeing her best friend strip off the brassieres and panties they found at the fancy boutique in the mall.

Molly had rung her hands nervously back stage, and gazed out at the spectators, mostly men. There had been a few women, other than Mary, who were there for curiosity's sake. Molly chewed on her lower lip, when Madame Bianca can up behind her.

''Remember to grab the pole high enough to get your momentum going, the rest you know how to do. Also, never close you eyes, it makes for a messy performance.'' She counted out the pieces of advice on her fingers, finally adding one final point. ''Breathe, and have fun! They pay to see you enjoy it!" She said with a wink. Molly chuckled nervously, before taking in a deep gulp of air. She waited for the announcement of her name, or rather, stage name, and walked out.

''Gentleman, ladies, please welcome our newest lovely lady, Miss Ivy.'' The man in the back at the DJ booth called over the microphone. Molly breathed in and out slowly, trying to spot Mary in the crowd. She eyed her sitting in the corner, and she waved back, her face baring a huge smile. She nodded in reassurance, and Molly took her spot on the stage. 'You can do this, Molly. You can cut up dead bodies, you can do this.' She thought to herself. The beat of the music began, a low bass trill, and then followed by a high guitar note. Molly pushed everything out of her mind apart from her moves. She breathed in again, and took off.

Molly moved her head back and forth to the music, causing her hair to bounce wildly back and forth over her shoulders. The black, lacy bra she wore hugged her body nicely, displaying her curves perfectly. The matching underwear clung tightly to her hips, showing bits of her skin between the tightly woven pattern of the lace. She walked to the pole, a confident strut in her step, as she grabbed the pole in her left hand. With a quick, sweeping motion, she lifted herself up high on the pole, swinging her body around it. Her left leg curled around it as she slowly slid down, earning a cat call from the audience. She smiled mischeveously, knowing the call had come from Mary. She continued through her routine. Molly performed near acrobatic tricks with her body, and had elected to flirtatiously ease the smooth bra from her shoulders. The crowd cheered as she continued the dance, until the music came to an end, and she gracefully posed against the pole. Once again, the audience cheered, many of the men hooting and howling. Molly faked a curtsey, and pranced of the stage, bra in tote. Behind the curtain, she redressed, as Miss Bianca walked to her.

''You did fabulously, child.'' She spoke, before pulling Molly into a hug. Molly would have been more shocked, were it not for the fact that she felt extremely giddy. She returned the embrace, and they soon separated.

''Thank you very much, Miss Bianca. Also, I wanted to thank you for allowing me to only...um...well you know, to only take the top off.'' She said hesitantly, unsure of how to word it. Miss Bianca nodded and grinned.

''In all honesty, dear girl, they come to see you dance, it doesn't matter the amount you take off, given you start off with little on. You may take off however much you wish.'' She explained. Molly sighed, slightly in relief. It had made her slightly uncomfortable having to even take her top off. Had she known this beforehand, she may have elected not to do it. Suddenly, she understood why Miss Bianca hadn't told her of this rule before her performance. Molly smiled at the woman, who knowingly nodded, before returning to the side of the stage to watch the next girl.

Molly had finished dressing and wandered out to the bar. Mary sat there, waiting for her, while Paul chatted her up about something. Mary was giggling when she saw Molly from the corner of her eye. She jumped off the stool and raced to Molly, hugging her tightly as she jumped up and down.

''You did so great, Mollymol! You were awesome!" She squealed loudly into Molly's ear. Molly simply giggled at her friend's insane outburst. They had said goodbye to Paul, who congratulated Molly by giving her a long stem rose. Molly gave her gratitude by placing a small peck on his cheek. The two women turned and made their way toward the streets of London.

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The next evening:

Sherlock sat under the scrutinizing eye of John Watson. He was not pleased with his flatmate. He had refused all cases given throughout the past two weeks. Sherlock remained docile, clearly unshaken by his friend's anger.

''Lestrade just phoned, Sherlock. Wants to know if maybe a case about an underground ring of drug lords would interest you.'' John called, as he entered the kitchen, phone in hands. Sherlock's ear twitched slightly. John came back into the living room, talking to Lestrade as he carried two mugs of coffee.

''Alright, I'll ask.'' He replied, before pulling the phone away from his mouth, shielding it with his shoulder. ''He says the body they found is missing his internal organs, just piles of goo.'' John watched as Sherlock's eyes lit up, and he jumped from his seat with glee.

''I think that's a yes, then. Greg, we're on our way.'' He said, before hanging up the phone. The two men flew down the stairs and hailed the nearest cabbie down.

Twenty minutes came and went, and the men arrived at the scene of the crime. The body lay face up in a mound of dirt and debris. Vomit has pooled at one side by his head, and his stomach appeared to be caved in. Sherlock approached Lestrade, who was leaning over the body of the man, flaslight held in his hand.

''It doesn't look good, we're not sure what to make of it.'' Lestrade sighed, his hand ruffled through his hair. Sherlock leaned over the mushy corpse and took in small details. He then stood up and turned to John and Lestrade.

''Right, have his body sent to St. Bart's. I'll text Dr. Hooper and have her meet us there.'' He said, strolling away from the scene.

OoOo

Molly had just finished her performance, and had received an overwhelming amount of support from the onlookers, even without stripping down past her panties and heels. She had just finished dressing when her phone chimed. Text message. She picked it up and clicked on the small envelope icon. It opened and a picture downloaded quickly. The stomach of a dead body, she determined, the internal damage was extensive. She scrolled down to the bottom to read the, message.

'Dead body found. Very odd. Need to use the lab. Come to St. Bart's at once.'  
SH

Molly shook her head, letting out a sigh. If only he could say 'please', that wouldn't hurt. Soon, another message lit up her screen.

'Please. I do hope you are not inconveniently obligated with your other job at the moment.' SH

She chuckled before climbing in a cab, giving the driver the name of the hospital, and the best way to get there at that time of morning. 'Well, what do you know?' The cab arrived at Bart's, an Molly climbed out of it. She stalked down the hallway to the morgue, vaguely unaware of the clacking of her high heels hitting the floor. As she reached the doors to the morgue, Molly had realized they were on her feet. She was about to take them off, when the door flew open, Sherlock holding it with his hand.

''Ah, Welcome Molly. Thank you for showing up on such short notice. I do apologize for inconveniencing you. Obviously, I've interrupted a date with your latest suitor. Or perhaps an evening with your friends. No matter now, though. The body is this way.'' He motioned for her to follow him. She noticed John already standing by the body, examining the stomach contents. As Molly gazed at the corpse, she felt nauseous. The stomach had been torn to shreds, and all that remained of the organs inside were pools of a thick red slime.

''Okay then, let's get to work.'' Molly stated, dropping her bag to the floor. The set of them worked in the morgue for several hours collecting samples. They had then spent the following six in the lab, testing the samples against a variable sea of chemicals. Molly had made them coffee, three times. John had managed to keep awake by talking to Molly about his relationship with Mary. Sherlock had secluded himself to his mind palace, and hadn't emerged for the past three hours.

''Finally, an hour later, the computer chimed. It found a match. The sound registered to all three, as they crowded around the computer screen.

''H2SO4." Molly whispered, and then felt a pang of sympathy for the dead man on her slab. Sherlock was out of his chair at once, grabbing his coat, and heading toward the door.

''Thank you, Molly. You've been most helpful.'' He said, before bolting out of the room. ''Come on, John, I know who our suspect is!" John just stood, and gave her a sympathetic shrug. She smiled as he turned, waving behind him.

''Have fun on your date Saturday!" She called after him, and was rewarded with a distant ''thanks!" From down the hall. She smiled, and began cleaning up the mess.

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I felt this was as good a stopping point as ever for this chapter. Hope you liked it. Review, and check out the other fics! Thanks for enjoying it thus far! Later darlings!


	5. Chapter 5

Again, I'd like to acknowledge the awesome people who review my chapters.

Temperance Hotryenwod: I always try to respond to the reviews with a little note, because I like that you all review in the first place. Here's the next chapter for you!

Shouryuugo: I'm glad you like a different spin. I giggle like a mad woman when I'm writing this stuff too...so I'm glad someone else does too! Here's the next chapter!

TBBTlover123: welcome to the fun! Hope you like the other chapters.

Juze: Of course Sherlock has his motives. Lol. I will tell you that in this case, it is just so she doesn't kick him out of the lab again. He's always up to something. He's Sherlock! Lol. Keep reading though, there's more to be expected. ;)

Also, thanks to the people who put this on story alert, and favorite it, and whatever else. It means a lot to me.

I own nothing. :(

Chapter five!

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Sherlock and John had arrived at the station, where Lestrade sat at his desk, waiting. He saw the pair walk through the door, as he sipped his coffee.

''Alright, what's this all about? You said you had a suspect. WE didn't even have a suspect, so what do you know?" Lestrade asked. He mentally berated himself for asking that way. Sherlock began.

''The man from the back alley was killed with sulfuric acid. That's actually just a minor detail. The man himself proved much more interesting than his untimely death.'' John and Lestrade exchanged a look, one that Sherlock missed. ''Dust from his jacket says he worked with copious amounts of cocaine, as it embedded itself in his clothing. There was a series of nick marks along him fingertips, either diabetic or he repeatedly cut himself on a straight razor when handling his own stash, more likely the latter. A rash along his hairline said he suffered from eczema, due to prolonged exposure in a dry room. So he handled the drugs for his bosses. Most likely he stole some; or someone stole it from him, and he was killed. Sulfuric acid seemed ideal to his killers, leaves the least traceable evidence. Now, how do I have a suspect? Because, the man had a tattoo on the knuckle of his right hand, a small tree frog. More specifically, a whistling tree frog, scientifically known as Litoria verreauxii. Philip Leiv is the ring leader of a large drug scheme, they call themselves the Litori. Since leiv doesn't actually live in the proximity of London, he would have had hired men to carry out his work here for him. Best advice would be to track down where Leiv's gruntmen spend their spare time, and bring them in, Detective.'' He finished. Lestrade and John looked at each other, then back to Sherlock, who was stoic as ever. Lestrade picked up his phone and dialed to one of the other departments.

''Yea, get me all the information you can on a man named Philip Leiv, and anything you've got on his drug ring too. Thanks.'' He hung up shortly after. He nodded in gratitude at the two men, as they left. ''I'll be in touch.'' He stated to Sherlock, who merely gave a curt nod of his head, closing the door behind him.

OoOo

The end of the week arrived, and Sherlock hadn't heard a word from Lestrade. He paced frantically back and forth, clearly out of boredom. John, meanwhile, was scrubbing up, in preparations for his date with Mary. He could hear his friend's grumblings from the other room, and chose to ignore them. An hour later, Mary had arrived. John greeted her warmly, as he invited her in.

''I know I'm a bit early, but I thought maybe we could sit and chat before dinner.'' She said as she took the seat on the sofa.

''Of course, darling. Would you like some tea?" John asked, to which Mary nodded. ''Sherlock, tea?" He added. Sherlock merely grunted in affirmation. John rolled his eyes as he entered the kitchen. Minutes later, he returned with a tray full of cups, a hot kettle of water, and the other assorted amenities they would require. Mary and John sat next to each other, discussing family, movies, and what they both liked and disliked about the two subjects. Sherlock continued his pacing after he had finished his tea, and Mary eyed him warily. John took hold of her hand reassuringly.

''It's alright,'' he whispered, ''He gets like this sometimes. Don't mind him.'' Mary chuckled, and Sherlock's head snapped around to face them.

''John, I'm bored. Give me puzzles, give me work! Hell, I'll take a bloody limerick if you've got one. I just need SOMETHING!" he shouted, as he became increasingly agitated. John took in a deep breath before standing up. He walked over to where his laptop sat, and picked it up. As he sat down next to Mary again, he flipped the lid open. He checked his blog for a case, any case, that would occupy Sherlock's brain for longer than five seconds. Finally, he came across one that sounded intriguing, at least, intriguing to him.

''There is a man in Cardiff who suspects that his daughter of having a love affair with his accountant.' John read aloud. Mary had curled up into his side, reading over his shoulder. They looked up at Sherlock, who scoffed and began pacing after a short pause.

''Yes. She is. However, it's not a love affair. The daughter is using the accountant to wriggle her way further into her dying father's pocket. Oh, how do I know he's dying? Why else would a young woman sleep with an accountant?" He stated within a single breath. They sat in silence a few more minutes, when Sherlock's phone buzzed. He picked it up, reading the text.

'Have a lead. Need you to meet me at an address.''  
Lestrade

Sherlock's smile grew from ear to ear. He jumped up excitedly, before hopping over his chair to get his coat.

''Come on, John. We have a lead to follow. Slush man's killer.'' He said, pulling his arms through. John looked up from his laptop.

''I have plans, Sherlock. We have plans.'' He said, pointing between Mary and himself. Sherlock's smile faded qucikly, clearly disappointed. Mary rubbed her hand along John's arm, and he turned to meet her gaze.

''Go. Dinner can wait. He needs you.'' She said, before kissing him lightly on his cheek. He smiled at her, before pulling her into a kiss, and a loving embrace. He then stood, pulling his jacket on.

''Mary Morstan, I am all too lucky to have you.'' He declared, pride swimming through his body. She giggled sweetly. ''I'll be back soon. Wait here. Watch the telly, if you'd like. Just..don't go away.'' He said, to which she nodded. John turned to Sherlock, who was waiting impatiently by the door.

''So, where are we going to?" He asked, crossing the room. Sherlock looked at his phone, reading the address aloud.

''64 Shoreditch High Street.'' He stated, as the two men walked through the door of the flat. Mary's eyes widened, knowing the address was familiar to her. She pulled out her phone and typed out an urgent text.

'Mol, look out. Sherlock and John heading your way on a case.'  
Mary

She hit the send button, and silently prayed that Molly would receive it in time.

OoOo

Molly stood on the side of the stage, waiting for her cue to walk out. The DJ called for her over the intercom.

''Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together, for the lovely Miss Ivy.'' Molly stepped out onto the stage, as the music began.

Meanwhile, her phone sat backstage, untouched, as it chirped and buzzed, alerting her of an incoming text message.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Oh bloody hell. What's going to happen? Hope you stay tuned to find out. Review, tell me what you think. Thanks for reading, and all the support. Now that I'm into it this far, I LOVE the idea. It makes me happy to know that you like it, too. Thanks again dears. Until next time!


	6. Chapter 6

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Chapter six is here! Read on:

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

John and Sherlock arrived at the corner of the street, across from The White Horse. They climbed out of the cab, and John paid the driver his fare. They looked across at the building, able to hear a dull bass beat coming from inside.

''Hang on, are we going to a gentlemen's venue? Sherlock, I've got a lovely girlfriend waiting at our flat. One I'm sure would not be fond of me being in a place like this.'' John said, flustered. He looked to Sherlock, who was giving him a stern look.

''It's not my fault that Leiv's man has a fondness for provocative women. Look, John, I'm sure Mary wouldn't mind if it was for a case. Which it is, so there you are. We are going to go in there, hide in plain sight, and find ourselves a muderer. Why must you always question my methods?" Sherlock explained, before asking John the question, seeming hurt. John sighed a heavy breath, before nodding in approval. They crossed the narrow road, before entering the pub. ''Besides, if it makes you that uncomfortable, you can always do what I do.'' He added.

''Oh, and what is that?" John asked sarcastically.

''Don't ogle at the naked women.'' Sherlock stated, wearing a smug grin as they pushed open the door.

People swarmed about, going from the bar to the other room, and back. People sat in the booths, talking to each other over the loud music. Sherlock gazed about, deducing things about several of the different people he saw. No sign of Lestrade or his useless lackeys. He tapped John's shoulder, and pointed to the room next to them. He saw John breathe in deeply, before stepping forward in the same direction. They walked through the dark doorway, as the music had ended. John glanced up, just in time to see the performer skipping off the stage and behind the curtain. 'Oh thank God.' He thought to himself. The DJ at the large booth next to where they stood called from his spot.

''Alright, that was Angel. Up next we have another special little gal. If you didn't know, it's theme night, and this lil' lady wants to saddle up and take you all for a ride. Come on out, Cowgirl!"

The woman stepped onto the stage, wearing a skimpy fringed skirt, and a bra that matched. Her blonde hair hung down underneath the white Stetson hat on her head, and her feet fit comfortably in high heel cowgirl boots. The DJ started the track, and the girl began her routine. John uncomfortably looked away, trying to focus on what Sherlock was doing. His eyes, however, constantly betrayed him, peeking glances to the stage. He looked up at his friend, who was, instead of watching the girl, searching through the sea of people for a suspicious face. He turned to John, and cupped his ear before leaning in to yell to him.

''I don't see him! Perhaps we should go check the bar!'' He hollered above the music. John nodded his head, secretly glad that he would be out of temptation's grasp. They walked back in the room, and took a seat at the long bar. Paul shuffled to where they sat, clearing off the counter with a wet cloth.

''What can I get you boys?'' He asked, grinning happily at them. John tried to refuse, saying he was okay, but Sherlock insisted on ordering them a round. John understood his friend's reasoning, 'blending in', and asked for a whiskey. Sherlock asked for a draft beer. Paul brought them their drinks shortly, and they sat there, appearing to converse. Sherlock carefully eyed the surrounding people, not finding anyone that fit his profiling. John hopped off the stool a few minutes later.

''Well, I need to use the head.'' He said, as Paul pointed in the direction of the restroom. John thanked him, before quietly speaking to Sherlock. ''I'll keep an eye out, yes?" Sherlock nodded his head, and took a sip of his beer. John walked to the other room, in the direction of the loo. Sherlock sniffed the alcoholic beverage. It seemed familiar to him, but he couldn't be sure as to why.

OoOo

''Molly, don't forget, you've got your theme dance still to do.'' One of the other dancers called to her. She nodded her head and smiled.

''Thanks, Angie, I just need to use the loo, won't be gone long.'' She called over to the tall black haired woman. She threw on her robe, and took the back hallway to the restrooms. After she had finished, Molly washed her hands, and sorted her hair in the mirror's reflection. She sighed, looking herself up an down in the tall mirror, before leaving the bathroom. As she walked through the door, she ran straight into someone in the narrow hall.

''Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't see...'' she stopped as she looked up, realization knocking the wind out of her. The sandy blonde-haired man ran his hand across his forehead, before looking up.

''Oh no, really miss, it's fi..iiiii...Molly?" Came the response. Molly held her hand up to her mouth, unable to close it. John's face stirred with pure confusion. ''What are you doing...at a place like this?" He asked, looking around them. Molly's face flushed with embarrassment.

''I should ask you the same. I thought you had a date with Mary. She isn't here, is she?" She asked. 'Oh, Mary, if this was your doing, I'm going to kill you.' She internally scolded her friend. John fervently shook his head.

''No, oh bloody hell no. I, I mean we, we had a lead in a case that brought us here. Trying to follow up on it.'' He paused for a moment. ,'Why are you here, Molly?" John responded. It was only then that he looked at her attire. Her hair was gently curled, hanging loosely around her face and draping over her shoulders. From her shoulders to just above her knees, she was covered in a beautiful black silk robe, with red trim and matching belt. Her legs below were bare and exposed, and her feet clad in a pair of tall, stilleto heels that seemed to match her robe. The puzzle pieces quickly snapped together, and his eyebrows quickly shot up his face as he took in the sight of her. John looked back up to Molly, who was now a perfect shade of crimson red.

''Molly, you're a stripper?" He asked, half in a whisper, yet half yelling as well. She blushed again, before sheepishly smiling and nodding her head. She waited for him to catch on, which he soon did.

''Oh. My. God. He got it wrong. THIS is your waitressing job?" He asked incredulously. Molly nodded again. Then, reality set into her mind. She grabbed John by his arm, and pulled him within earshot of her.

''Oh no! John! I have another act to do. He CAN'T see me! Not like this!" She said, her head drawing a line up and down her body. ''Please, keep him in the other room. Talk to the bartender. His name is Paul. Please John.'' She pleaded, obviously distraught at the idea of Sherlock finding new ammunition to verbally assault her with later. John nodded his head, before giving her a quick hug.

''Alright Molly, I'll try my best.'' He said. Just then, a girl peeked from the opposite hall, and found Molly with her eyes.

''Mol, you're up in five. You need help with your hair?" The girl called to her, and she quickly turned and nodded her head.

''Yea, be right back, just saying hi to a friend.'' She said. The woman eyed John up and down, before sending him a wink.

''Ivy never mentioned she had such good looking friends.'' She cooed at him. Molly shot her a look, one that was half smirk, half serious. The girl soon disappeared down the hall again. John looked at her pointedly.

''Ivy?" He asked. She chuckled.

''Yea, short for Ivy League. The other girls...they find it amusing that I'm a doctor by day, yet a stripper by night.'' She explained. He grinned slightly, before she gave him a quick hug, thanking him. He watched her run down the hallway, and he turned to go back to the bar. 'Keep Sherlock there.' His mind told him.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

I'm cruel, I know. Oh well... guess you'll just have to come back for the next chapter. Hope you like it thus far. Please don't be too upset, the next chapter is especially long. Leave a review, let me know what you think of it! I do love reviews. They make me happy. Thanks dearests!


	7. Chapter 7

Shout out to the masses who reviewed:

Are you ready? Of course you are! Finally, the chapter a lot of you have been waiting for. And by a lot, I mean all. Lol.

Oh, just a reminder, aside from the minor characters and plot, I own nothing. Enjoy!

Chapter seven!

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Molly finished pulling on her costume, and was sitting in her chair, as Angie pulled her hair up into a ponytail. She chewed nervously on her lower lip, feeling her stomach flip and churn inside her. Her phone pinged, for its fifth time, and she picked it up. 'Text message.' She flipped the lock button off, and opened the text.

'Mol, look out. Sherlock and John heading your way on a case.'  
Mary

Molly felt bad that she had blamed Mary. Of course it wasn't her doing, she would never betray such a secret. Molly texted her back, as Angie finished placing her hair into the tie.

'Hey, just got this...after running into John. I may have scarred him, so sorry. He's working on keeping you-know-who in the other room until I'm done. Gotta go, I'm up next. Call you later.'  
Mollymol

She placed the phone on her table again, and took in a shaky breath. Angie noticed, and looked concerned.

''Hey girl, you alright?" She asked, placing a hand on Molly's shoulder. Molly nodded slightly.

''I will be. There...there's a man out there, who I didn't want knowing about what I do, and now he may find out. That is, if my other friend can't keep him at the bar.'' She explained, followed by a heavy sigh. Angie made an 'oh' with her mouth, before smiling at her through the mirror. Molly stood up, and adjusted her costume, before walking to the curtain's edge. She peeked out of the side, seeing no sign of John, or Sherlock. 'Good. Keep him there, John.'

OoOo

Sherlock sat at the bar, when he saw a tall, burly man walk in. He immediately noticed a small tattoo on the man's knuckle, confirming Sherlock's suspicions. He followed the man with his eyes, as he walked to the bar, and waved Paul down. The short barman stepped to where he was.

''Ian, my lad, how do ya do?" He called. 'Ian' smiled down to the sweet old man.

''I'm doing good, Paul. How about yourself?" He answered, shaking Paul's hand. Paul had already brought the man a drink. 'Regular.' Sherlock noted.

''Oh, I be doin' alright. Hey, pull up a seat, tell me what you've been up to of late.'' Paul motioned for Ian to take the stool next to Sherlock. Ian laughed and held up a hand.

''No, sorry old man, can't right now. Don't want to miss the show.'' He smiled, head tilting toward the double doors. ''I hear Bianca found a new girl. She must be pretty tasty, yea?" He asked. Sherlock internally sneered at the depravity of the man's behavior. Paul took on a slightly stern look, before pointing a chubby finger in Ian's face.

''Now, you'll not be layin' one hair on that sweet girl's head. She's a good kid, just down on 'er luck is all. I mean it Ian, don't even think about hurtin' Miss Ivy.'' He scolded the man like he was his own son.

'Similar nose structure, but different jawlines. Most likely an uncle then. Father is long parted, most likely during early adolescence. So the bar keep is his only paternal influence. Long distance, given the outcome of this... Ian.' Sherlock quickly deduced. Ian laughed as he turned from the bar, drink in hand.

''Don't worry, old man. I won't touch her at all, 'less she wants me to.'' Ian winked, before walking away. Sherlock paid his tab, before politely bowing to Paul in thanks, and had started after Ian. Just then, he met John at the doorway.

''Hey-o, where ya goin' Sherlock?" John asked, a little too exuberantly. Sherlock quirked an eye at him.

''I've found our man. Following him. Text Lestrade. Tell him to look for us, next to a tall man, bald, sharp suit. I'm going to sit next to him.'' Sherlock explained. John quickly held up his hand, grabbing Sherlock's jacket in haste. Sherlock's eyes flashed to John's face.

''John, will you remove yourself from me, please?" Sherlock asked, agitated at the road block. John, not knowing what else to do, punched Sherlock in the arm. This earned him a scowl, as Sherlock rubbed his upper arm in a discomforting manner.

''Right, got that out of your system, then?" He said, before brushing past John quickly. John cursed himself internally. 'I'm sorry, Molly. I tried.' He followed after Sherlock, pulling out his phone to text Lestrade.

'Where are you? We found our man. Get here soon.'  
JW

His phone buzzed almost instantly. He opened the message screen, and blew out a breath of near relief.

'Outside the bar. Coming in now.'  
GL

John had no sooner finished reading the text, when he saw Greg walk through the entrance. He flagged him down, trying very much to rush the arresting process, for Molly's sake. Lestrade met up with him, and John pointed out Ian, who was sitting comfortanly at a table near the side wall. He had his back to the entrance, and was chatting up a conversation with Sherlock. Greg nodded to John, who stepped out of the way, allowing Lestrade and two other officials to walk through the door. As they stepped through the door, however, the lights switched off. John's eyes flew up in horror, as he heard the DJ call out.

''Alright, let's keep the fun goin' with theme night! It's getting a lot warmer in here, and some of you look like you got a fever. Lucky for you, we've got a doctor in the house. Put your hands together for Miss Ivy!"

Lestrade and his men weaved through the people, and had reached the table where Ian and Sherlock sat. Lestrade leaned over, and whispered for the large man to kindly come outside with him. Ian looked over his shoulder to see two heavily armed men behind the detective, and he nodded shyly. On the stage, a woman stepped out, wearing sharp high heels, a ponytail, and a labcoat. As Ian stood, the music started. He allowed himself to be escorted out the side door, with Lestrade trailing behind the two officers. Sherlock had stood to follow, when he was caught off guard by a movement in his peripheral line of vision. The woman on the stage had started to move, her head bobbing back and forth to the music. His sight had caught the flick of a very familiar ponytail.

His eyes flew forward to the stage, allowing him to get a perfect look at the petite woman wearing a skimpy version of a labcoat. She was the spitting image of a certain pathologist. His pathologist. Her back was turned to the crowd, as she began to undo the buttons on the front of the jacket. The men surrounding Sherlock gave loud cat calls, encouraging the young lady to quickly flash a shoulder. It was bare, with exception of a small bra strap. Sherlock's body had now squared up with the stage, as he followed her movements. She took a slender finger, and untied her hair, shaking it loose in time to the music. The resemblance in his mind was overwhelming. His brow creased with pure confusion. In a smooth carress, she brought the coat down past her shoulders, sliding it along her skin, until she powerfully shrugged it to the floor. Sherlock's eyes locked onto her body. Her hips rolled in time with the music, as the rest of her body followed in the waving pattern. This was when she turned around.

Any air that Sherlock had been harboring in his lungs was quickly squeezed from him as he saw her face. There she was. Molly Hooper. The same Molly Hooper who had brought him coffee every morning. The same Molly Hooper who lost nearly all nerve and blushed when he flirted with her to gain access in the lab. The same Molly Hooper, who was now on that stage, in nothing more than a bright blue brassiere, blue ruffled underwear, and a very tall pair of heels. Her eyes glowed with a seductive power to them, her smile was devious. The music continued, and she jaunted over to the tall, silver pole. Sherlock's eyes watched her, unblinking, as she took the pole in one hand, and proceeded in flipping herself around it. His eyes widened at the curve her body made around the glimmering beam. She seductively slid down the length of the pole, before her heeled feet planted firmly on the ground. Her long fingers wrapped in the bouncy tendrils of her strawberry colored hair, as she rolled her head around, mouth open provocatively. His mouth suddenly gaped slightly, as she suggestively ground her hips into the pole, before swinging around it again. She dipped onto the ground, her hips grazing the floor as she crouched and crawled across the stage. She then stood and turned, front facing the crowd, as her arms reached around her back. She whipped her hair to the rock music that played, rolling her tight stomach and pelvic muscles in a wave, as she teasingly unhooked clasp after clasp of her silky blue bra.

Sherlock's head had tilted to one side as he watched, his face still wide-eyed and very unsure. Her fingers then returned to the front as she pulled the straps off her shoulders. The men hooped at her, and she pulled them back up, earning more cries of various sorts. She flashed a smile, and then slowly pulled the fabric away from her breasts. This was rewarded with an uproar of applause, as she continued the raunchy performance. She stepped with purpose across the stage, and shimmied her top half from the side, as she bit down on her lip. She danced around the pole once more, sliding her back down the length of it, before she stood back up. The music came to an end, as she posed playfully with her leg wrapped around the pole, her hair tossed back over her bare shoulders and back. Sherlock hadn't moved from his spot, and was completely unaware that Lestrade had apprehended Ian, and was already on the return to the station with him. Sherlock had been glued to the spot, searching 'somewhere' for the answers to his many questions. He hadn't even noticed John walk up behind him, as he pulled Sherlock from the room. He didn't feel anything as John pushed him into a cab, and they headed home to Baker Street.

OoOo

The cab pulled up to the front of 221B, and Sherlock had still not spoken a word, his eyes ever-wide. John pulled him from the car, and then up the stairs. Sherlock mindlessly followed, unable to break from his reverie. They entered the flat, and Mary looked across the room, seeing the two men's state. John, who gave her a look, as he half grinned. Her eyes followed his as Sherlock numbly walked over to his easy chair, and sat down. His hands immediately steepled, and he stared off into some unknown abyss. Mary stood and walked to John, who was in the kitchen.

''You alright?" She asked, bringing her body flush against the back of his. She wrapped her arms around him, and gently stroked his chest. He nodded, unsure of how to move into the obviously awkward discussion. His hands wrapped around hers.

''Molly texted, said she was sorry you had to see her like that. I'm sorry too, John. I should've told you when you left here, what you would see.'' She said I to his back. He turned around, and pulled her into a hug.

''I saw her before her performance, clothed, mind you. When I knew it was her up on that stage, I stayed at the bar.'' John quietly explained into her hair. He looked over to his flatmate, who was still seated in a very tense mode. ''He, on the other hand, caught the whole show.'' He continued, nodding towards Sherlock's direction. Mary followed his eyes to Sherlock. Her face broke into a wide grin, and she had to stifle a full-blown laugh. John looked down at her, before he also smiled, the pair of them silently laughing at the state that Molly had placed the consulting detective in.

''She really is quite good.'' Mary said after a moment.

''Obviously.'' John chuckled, before they shared another laugh.

OoOo

Molly had just entered her flat, tiredly kicking off her shoes. She walked into her bedroom, and flopped onto her bed. Toby jumped up behind her, and she pet his soft fur when he curled up next to her arm. Her phone rang, informing her of an incoming text. She glanced at her phone, one eyed, and saw a picture text from Mary awaited her. She downloaded the image, and when it appeared, her eyes flew wide open. She read the text below the photo.

'Seems someone caught your show. ;)'  
Mary

Molly looked at the photo again. It was taken from across the room, but she could clearly make out the profile of Sherlock's face, his brow quirked into somewhat of a stern, contemplative look.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Let me just say how much fun this chapter was to write. If you really want inspiration for reading the dance part, and getting a good feel for the pace of it, look up the song ''You Drive Me Wild'' by the Runaways. It's the song I had playing at the time, and I thought ''Hey! Great stripper song!" Lol. hope you enjoyed it. Review, favorite, tell your friends, and definitely look for more chapters. This thing is far from over. Thanks darlings!


	8. Chapter 8

I just wanted to say thank you to those who reviewed the latest chapter. I tried very hard not to disappoint, since you all wanted it very much. I'm glad you enjoyed it. welcome to the new readers, here's the next chapter!

Chapter Eight:

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Sherlock paced back and forth in his mind palace. This new information was definitely not deletable. He wandered back and forth. He reexamined the old information he had on her. 'The second job. Sleep deprivating evenings. The smell of ale on her clothing. THAT'S why it was familiar. The new toning of her muscles. Hard work. Just, not the kind he'd assumed.'

''Stupid, stupid, stupid.'' Sherlock said aloud, drawing the attention of his flatmate. John looked at him, with a raised brow. Sherlock had looked at him, before narrowing his eyes.

''Punch in the arm. You knew. You were trying to prevent me from seeing.'' He stated in a low voice. John nodded his head slightly, before speaking up.

''I'd only just found out, en route to the toilet.'' He said defensively.

Sherlock hummed in response, before lying back on the couch, hands pointed under his chin. He closed his eyes, and was soon returning into his mind. He walked along the long marble hall that lead to his palace. He pushed open two large granite doors, and strode into the great room. He had walked to the door with her name on it, and he pushed it open with a 'click.' As he entered her room, he pushed the door closed behind him. When he had turned around, the room was different. What used to be a room that was half-lab, half-morgue, and no Molly, was now a beautiful flourish of color. The walls were splattered with a bright crimson rose color, the floor echoing a chess board. There was a long sofa angled toward the door, and on it sat a mental version of the pathologist. She sat there, with her legs curled up slightly next to her, as she read a book. She wore a labcoat, that was somewhere between the length of her actual one, and the one he'd seen her in at The White Horse. Her hair was down, and framed her slender face and neck with gentle curls. She thumbed through the book, entitled How to Be a Waitress. She smiled up at him, a smile somewhere between her genuine one and the seductive one she had worn on stage. Sherlock looked around the room, trying to understand the changes. There were still beakers and slabs strewn about, but the overall appearance had morphed into a lounge sort of setting. He looked to where the woman was on the couch, and she had 'changed' as well.

Instead of sitting there, curled up with a book, she laid across the full length of the large sofa. Her legs stretched out, with only a slight bend at her knees. Her feet were clad in a pair of very tall heels, and her arms were stretched above her head, as one hand ruffled through her hair. Her mouth was slightly open, and she bit down on her lower lip. Her eyes were half open, a smokiness swimming throughout her irises. Sherlock felt like he had swallowed a hot ball of wax, his stomach churned, and he turned to quickly exit the room. When he pulled on the door handle, it wouldn't budge. He tried again, desperate to regain control. Still, the door remained unmoved. Sherlock turned around again. Molly stood in front of him, her eyes glowing, and her mouth twisted into a wicked grin. His eyes betrayed him as he looked down at the length of her petite body. Her labcoat hung open, revealing bits of fabric that covered her more intimate parts. They shown with a royal blue color. He gazed up at her face again, and she slowly walked toward him. Molly opened her mouth to speak, her voice coming out in a purr-like trill.

''I can never get anything by you, Sherlock.'' He swallowed another hot lump in his throat, as she stepped closer and closer to him.

Sherlock bolted into a sitting position on the sofa, his breathing erratic and panicked. He looked around, taking note of his surroundings. John was gone, and the room was darker than before. Sherlock's breathing slowed, and he laid back on the sofa, trying to calm the churning feeling in his gut.

OoOo

A few weeks later, Molly sat on her bench in the morgue of St. Bart's. She had been filling out paperwork for hours it seemed. Mentally, she decided to tally up all the things that had changed recently. For starters, she had felt significantly less stressed, and a bit more confident. She had a few new friends, and two jobs that she liked. Her body had never looked better, and she was able to fit into some of her old, more appealing clothing. John had got over the hump of awkward encounters when seeing her. Sherlock still hadn't shown his face anywhere at the hospital. He always had John fetch items he needed for experiments or cases. Molly felt slightly hurt, but reminded herself that this was Sherlock.

She had almost finished her paperwork, when the doors shoved open, and Sherlock strode in. Molly jumped slightly, having not expected to see him anytime soon. He walked to the body closet closest to her, and tapped on it expectantly. Molly hopped off the stool and walked over to open it for him. She unlocked it, and slid out the long tray. Neither of them said a word, as Sherlock examined the elderly man's wrinkles. Molly watched him work silently, until his eyes shot up to meet hers. She startled again.

''Molly, coffee. Black, two sugars.'' He said cooly. Molly nodded, before turning away to go make his coffee. She smiled to herself. 'Everything back to normal, then.' She arrived back a few moments later, with two cups a fresh brew. She placed one next to Sherlock, before returning to complete the last of her work for the day. As she sat down on the stool, her pencil fell from the counter, rolling under her workbench. Molly sighed, before sliding off the chair and searching for it. She crawled around for a minute, before dipping her head down to the floor, trying to see where the pencil had rolled to. She saw it, just within arms length. She bent down slightly lower, having to arch her back slightly to reach it. 'Ha, gotcha!' She thought, as she wrapped her fingers around the writing utensil. She stood back up, and brushed herself off. She had turned around, only to bump into Sherlock, who hovered very closely over her. She gasped as she looked at him. His eyes shown with a feral verocity that she hadn't seen before. She took notice of the way his breathing had sounded slightly labored, coming out in an almost growl. She looked at him, confused.

''Sherlock?" She started. He broke from whatever trance he had been in, eyes switching back to cold, as he looked at her. He bowed slightly.

''Thank you for the coffee, Molly.'' He said in a breathy deep voice, before turning and swiftly exiting the room. Molly was left standing there, her heart beat pounding away, and her head reeling with confusion. 'Then again, maybe it's not back to normal.'

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Hm, what's got Sherlock all up in a fit? Hope you liked this chapter. Review please! It makes me smile! I like to smile, smiling is my favorite! Lol. Thanks for reading! See ya next chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you to the lovely reviews from:

Almightyswot: I'm glad you picked up on that. Lol.

Feyfangirl: lol I liked the squee moment there. :)

Juze: I will never get tired of hearing people want more. It makes me happy that you like it so much!

Magicstrikes: yes. I agree. Mmm indeed. Lol

Rebel Cinderella: welcome to the story, and I'm glad you like it thus far.

Nocturnias: I am very glad you liked chapter 7. I was hoping it would live up to everyone's expectations, and I am glad it did. Here's the chapter where you find your answer. Lol.

I own nothing..or at least nothing important, like the primary stuff. Lol. Here you go dears!

Chapter Nine:

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

In the weeks that followed the incident at the moruge, Sherlock had stopped coming around completely. Molly never even saw John unless it was when she saw Mary. He tried reassuring her that it was just Sherlock being Sherlock. She wasn't convinced. Molly tried pushing the thought out of her head. She would go to work at the hospital, and try not to think about Sherlock being in her lab, or annoying her to fetch coffee while in the morgue. Then, she would go to The White Horse, where she would practice, and talk to Paul and the other dancers. She would dance in front of people in the evenings, and try not to think about how Sherlock had seen her doing this. No matter how hard she had tried, though, Molly just couldn't erase the look in his eyes from her mind. They blazed with such intensity, seemingly burning a hole through her. Molly had decided that enough was enough. It was very apparent to her that Sherlock had stopped all forms of contact with her, and it was becoming increasingly more obvious that it had something to do with her second job. She phoned Mary for a favor.

''Hey Mary, it's me. Listen, I need you to take John out this evening. I need to confront a certain someone, and I don't think John will want to hear some of what I have to say.'' She said. Mary had been more than pleased to assist her friend.

''About time, Mol! Sure, that's no problem. I'll take us to dinner and a movie, so you have ample time.'' Mary responded. Molly had expressed her gratitude, and the two women hung up. Mary sent a text to John explaining the situation, to which he was more than happy to be a part of.

'Good. He won't leave the flat. He barely says anything, and when he does, it's complete rubbish. I hope she knocks some sense into his thick head.'  
John

So, with a plan set in motion, Mary showed up at 221B to pick up John that night. Sherlock grumbled, asking why John had to leave at all. John merely rolled his eyes as the two left. On their way down the stairs, they ran into Molly, who was just coming in the door. She smiled up at them.

''Thanks again, you two. This is just utterly ridiculous, yes?" She asked as they walked down the final steps. Mary embraced Molly in a hug of encouragement. John wrapped an arm around the two of them, giving them both a quick squeeze. The girls giggled at the endearing gesture, before they separated.

''Good luck to ya, Mol. He's been quite difficult.'' John added as the couple pulled the door closed behind them. Molly shrugged off her coat, before stepping up the stairs. Her heels clicked softly against the wood, and she lightly knocked on the door.

''What do you want?" Came a dark voice from inside. Molly sighed. 'This isn't going to be easy.' She told herself. She pressed herself against the door, and spoke.

''Sherlock, we need to talk. I'm coming in, okay?" She asked nervously. When no reply came, she turned the knob of the door slowly, and pushed it open as she took two steps inside. She caught sight of Sherlock, who was standing in front of the window, arms folded neatly behind his back. Molly stepped further into the flat, so that she was now positioned by John's chair. Sherlock remained still as ever, determined to not turn around. Molly opened her mouth, breathing in courage to say what she wanted to say.

''Sherlock, you've been avoiding me.'' She started.

''Excellant deduction, doctor.'' He snipped curtly. She frowned. 'Not easy at all.' She reminded herself.

''Sherlock, I know you've been avoiding me. And I know it's to do with my work at The White Horse. So..so you can just stop it with the proud act, alright!" Her voice picked up, as her adrenaline surged.

''So you got one piece of information wrong! So I happen to strip off my clothes instead of take people's lunch orders! Surely you can't be that bloody upset because you misread the facts into a different occupation! Based on the facts alone, it was actually a good assumption!'' She grew increasingly braver, stepping closer to him, making her case. She continued.

''And yes, technically I lied to you by agreeing with you. So if that's why you're so bloody pissed at me, then I understand. You should know, though, that I only did it because it would have been so bloody embarrassing for you to know about it!'' Sherlock's body stiffened a bit at her last statement, enough for her to notice.

''Oh, you know exactly what I mean. You use all these small details to map out a person's life, and make them feel absolutely horrid. You made me feel horrible about myself, even when you assumed I had taken up a job delivering other people their food and drinks! You can imagine what my mind had put together if you knew what I ACTUALLY did.'' She confessed, through tear tracked eyes.

''So, so I'm sorry. Sherlock. I'm really bloody sorry if my stripping away my clothing has hurt YOUR ego so badly that you won't stop brooding long enough to even acknowledge your own work.'' She had finally said all she could, and the tears took over. Sherlock suddenly wheeled around, scowling at her.

''It had nothing to do with ego, Molly. Merely that I take issue with the...occupation you have selected as a second source of income.'' He said, trying to sound smug. Molly's face reddened in anger, as she marched to stand within an inch of him.

''And why, might I ask, do you care so much what I do with myself, as a second source of income?" She asked with a bitter twinge in her voice. She looked up at him, his face twisting and turning. He finally let the words slip from his mouth.

''Because I don't appreciate commonwealth perverts OGLING MY PATHOLOGIST!" His face flushed a bright red color, as did Molly's. Her mouth hung open in shock. He sighed in frustration, before running a hand through his hair. He looked at her, and carefully walked toward her.

''Are you jealous, Sherlock?" She asked, a grin sliding onto her face. His eyes flashed open wide, he looked shocked.

''Jealous? Why would I be jealous? I simply do not like small minded bigots eyeing you like some...some...plaything.'' he stammered, his face sneering at the simile. Molly smiled, sweetly and genuinely. She held her hand up and smoothed it across his cheek.

''You've never seemed to care before, so why now?" She asked, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

''Molly, you have piqued my interests in the past few months. I do not, however, like sharing my interests with others. You are my pathologist, not a piece of meat for those uncivilized scavengers to salivate over.'' He said lowly, his breath growing unsteady. Molly felt her breath go ragged, as the small space between them was reduced to fractions of an inch.

''So, I take it that means you don't find my second job horribly unappealing, as long as it's not in front of people?" She asked quietly. A painful question popped into her head, and she had to ask it.

''Sherlock, do you think me unattractive?" His eyes twisted in confusion, and he placed his hands on either side of her, holding her by her arms.

''No. Quite the contrary, Molly. You are far too attractive for my body's primal functions to manage ignoring any longer.'' Molly looked up to his eyes, seeing the dark feral glow had returned.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Well, had to do a bit of a rewrite today on these latest chapters I've been working on, but I finally got it the way I like it. So, I hope you like it too. Please review, and whatever else you want! Lol. Later tater loves!


	10. Chapter 10

K, Just a nice little note really quick to tell you, the next chapter IS coming! I just was having difficulty with my stupid tablet, and now I have to rewrite it out. So it should be out by the end of today, here's hoping! anyway, please standby while we fix the technical glitches. lol. Just wanted to let you guys know that I am working on it! Thanks for reading! See you later today! :D


	11. Chapter 11

So sorry it took longer than expected to post this. I had to go in and restore my files from backup because my tablet wanted to delete half of my hard drive. Anyway... shoutouts to the reviewers:

Allyll: welcome to the story. That chapter was super fun to write. Lol. Glad you liked it.

Maharet97: I totally did threaten it, and then it worked, well...I made it work. ;)

Ligya: lol I'm sorry, this time it wasn't on purpose, so here's a juciy long chapter to make up for it. :D

Little pages: lol, I know, I'm cruel. Here's the new one though, so it's all good!

Nocturnias: lol. Woof indeed, it only gets better. And I really do love possessive Sherlock too. Thanks again!

Juze: lol. Hope you like it. Not too much more conversation, but it is pretty funny stuff.

Magikstrikes: I'm glad you are enjoying. Enjoy some more!

Shouryuujo: I now, I'm a big tease. Lol. I love Sherlock's cluelessness to things of an intimate nature, because I'm very much the same way in real life.

Whytejigsaw: thanks, I love cliffhangers. They are fun to write.

Petra Todd: um, fangirl moment here. LOVELOVELOVE your stuff, Congrats on a wonderful finish to The Pirate and the Pathologist. Definitely a favorite of mine. Welcome to the story.

And to anyone I may have missed, thank you for reading: here's the next chapter!

Chapter Ten:

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

''Quite the contrary, Molly. You are far too attractive for my body's primal functions to manage ignoring any longer.''

She was shocked. She honestly hadn't expected that to be his answer. But as she saw that look return to his eyes, she soon understood why he had it that day in the morgue. He liked her this way, bolder and more comfortable with herself. Molly grinned up at him, and decided to toy with him. She had gone to pull away from him, with the goal of making him plead, making him beg, for her. This was Sherlock, though. He already had seen her planning through her eyes. He gripped her tightly.

His moves were swift and cunning. His hands weaved around her, pulling her flat against him, as he slammed his lips against hers. She gasped in shock, and was still for a moment. His mouth pressed into hers, and as he moved his mouth slightly, Molly relaxed and responded. Her hands remained at her sides, stuck underneath his. He suddenly moved again, ripping her jacket buttons open, and sliding the sleeves down her arms. She used the freedom of her arms to snake around his neck, pulling him closer. Sherlock's hands tangled in her hair as he kissed her lips.

The kiss had started out fierce, and made their way from gentle and loving to rapid, unkempt, and needing. They separated between sets of kisses. Things becoming increasingly more swift, Sherlock looked down as he felt Molly messing with the buttons on his suit coat. She twisted them so that the coat now hung open on his body. He shirked it off, tossing it to a side. He then felt her fumble with the small buttons on his dress shirt, before giving up and popping them off by ripping down his shirt by his collars. The move was wild, desperate, and turned Sherlock on to no end. He found he rather liked demanding Molly, her seductive prowess driving him slightly mad. His hands had gone up to help her remove her blouse, when he felt a swat against his fingers. He looked up at her with confusion, and was met with a very devious smile.

''Sherlock, I do this for a living. Please, allow me.'' Molly sighed seductively, before pushing Sherlock onto the couch. She took a few steps away from him, and began undoing her buttons slowly. Sherlock followed her fingers with his eyes, tracking their every move. She undid each button slower than the one before it, and she could see the gleam in his eyes burn from the torturous pace she was setting. She had finally reach the last button, and left her shirt hang from her shoulders. Sherlock could see a small bit of her bra underneath. It was a beautiful shade of ebony, trimmed with a touch of lace. It looked elegant and classic. He growled in frustration, to which she responded with a giggle. Molly slowly peeled her shirt off her arms, and allowed it to pool at her feet. She slowly unzipped her skirt, and pushed it down her legs. It collected by her heels, and she stepped out of it. Sherlock gazed at her from head to toe. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders. Her skin was creamy and pale. His eyes glided over the curves of her breasts beneath the brassiere, tracing along the lace. He looked down to see her underwear matched, slightly ruffled on the bottom in a classic can-can style. Sherlock's eyes drove down the length of her legs, to her feet, which were still clad in a pair of tall, black stiletto heels. He watched as she slowly approached him, until she stood directly in front of him.

''Do you like what you see?" She asked, almost sounding nervous. Sherlock looked up at her, trying to deduce what she had been thinking, feeling. His eyes met hers. Blank. His brain refused to register anything. If he were being honest with himself, he didn't care.

''Yes.'' Was the only word he could manage to say. It was strained and airy. Molly took one of her legs, and placed it on the couch next to his lap. She leaned over, and began to make her way to the straps of her heels. Sherlock's hand suddenly reached around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. She looked at him, and saw that his eyes were glued to her shoes.

''Leave them. Molly leave them on. Please.'' He said, his voice sounding even lower than normal. Molly felt a churning in her core, as she smiled wickedly. So, he DID have littly kinky likes. She moved her foot to the ground, and stood before him again. She didn't move an inch, and it drove him insane. Sherlock huffed in frustration before pulling her onto his lap. His fingers intertwined with the strands of her hair. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, as he kissed her. His kisses became more violent and desperate, and soon, Molly found herself moaning while he kissed the hollow of her neck. The warmth of his hands around her back quickly became a hot sensation as their blood pumped faster. Molly's hands filed through Sherlock's dark and wavy hair as he kissed along her shoulder and back up her neck. She could hear the low rumble of his breathing, and it quickly became a source of her own arousal. She moaned sweetly as he made his way down the center of her chest, stopping just above the fabric of her bra. She could feel his fingers fumble with the clasps on her back, and she moved her hands to help him. He groaned as she returned to her slow pace. She laughed, and felt him bury his face against her neck.

''It's called a strip TEASE for a reason, Sherlock.'' She said in a breathy voice. He growled against her skin again, and slid the straps from her shoulders.

''Yes, but if that were all this was, I wouldn't be allowed to touch you. I find I rather like this...the touching.'' he mumbled against her chest, as he kissed his way down. Molly chuckled, and soon the airy laugh was replaced with more moans. Sherlock tore off the material, and flung it across to where the rest of her clothes were. His mouth quickly fell into place around one of her breasts. He kissed it gently, almost teasing the skin with his lips. He licked around the pink flesh of her nipple, earning a moan. Molly's breathing was short and gasped as he toyed with her breasts.

''Oh, oh my...'' her words came out in whispy tones, mixed with the air she was breathing out. Sherlock's ears clung onto her every sigh, every moan. His brain unconsciously filed them away in his memory bank. He felt her fingers mess with the buckle of his belt, as she tried to pry it off of him. His hands went to assist her, and finally succeeded in releasing it. Molly pulled on the buckled end, untwining it from the loops of his trousers. She was about to drop it to the floor, when his quick reflexes caught the other end. He pulled her close to him, the belt being held at one end by her fingers, the other gripped tightly in his hand. He yanked her closer, so that the flesh of her soft breasts was flush against his skin. He then threw the belt to the floor, and ran his hands up and down her sides.

Molly loved the way his hands roamed across her skin. His lips dragged across her throat, as he nibbled away at her soft flesh. She was overtaken with the urgent lustful feeling, and she ground her pelvis into his lap. She could feel his growing arousal against her inner thigh. He moaned, and came up from her neck for air.

''I wondered what that would feel like.'' He said lowly. She laughed.

''What's that?" She struggled to ask.

''My mind wondered what it felt like to be that pole.'' He whispered into her ear, his voice rolling out in a gruff chuckled as she gasped, and repeated the motion. He then flipped Molly onto her back, so that he now hovered over her. He kicked his shoes off, and worked his pants down his legs, before kicking them to the side.

Molly gaped slightly as she saw him. She took in the sight of him, standing naked before her. She sat up, and hesitantly reached out a trembling hand. Her fingers wrapped around his length, and she looked up at him. His eyes snapped shut, and his breathing grew more ragged. She kissed his torso as she worked him with her fingers. Molly stroked up and down until she could see the muscles in his thighs clenching and tremoring. She stopped, taking her hands from him, and slid her underwear off of her hips. Sherlock crouched down to her, and placed a hand over her small mound. He had barely touched her, when she moaned loudly, grinding into his palm. It was the only spark he needed to delve further. Her skin was unbelievably smooth, he took note. He pushed a finger past the rosy lips that hid her, and she gasped. He stopped, afraid he had hurt her.

''No, no keep going. Please Sherlock. Don't stop.'' She moaned, reassuring him she was fine. He slid his finger deeper into her, feeling the tightness of her muscles around his finger. He took his thumb, and glided it experimentally over the small nub of flesh he had seen just above her entrance. Molly purred for him, her eyes shut tightly. Her mouth hung open, and he studied the way her chest moved up and down as she gasped for air. He continued with the motion, and her moans turned to higher pitched squeaks of pleasure. Sherlock pumped his finger in and out of her, slowly at first, and then increasingly faster. Molly's cries of joy only encouraged him. When she was just about to cave, he stopped.

''Sheeerrlooock.'' She whined, grinding her hips into his hand. He chuckled at her lust, before pulling his hand away completely.

''Can't have you totally spent, now, can we?" He asked in a low seductive tone. Molly's eyes managed to open slightly, in time to see him position himself at her opening. he looked down at her, waiting for consent. She simply nodded her approval. Sherlock slowly pushed into her, his eyes closing at the sensation. Molly gasped as he pushed into her, deeper and deeper. Her hands ran through her hair as she tried to adjust to the feel. Sherlock, having Already adjusted, began slowly driving into her. Molly bit her lip as he slowly built up friction between them. Soon, he was pumping into her with a fast speed, as she called out his name. Her hands reached above her, grabbing the arm of the sofa, in attempts to keep herself anchored. Sherlock leaned over her, and kissed along her jaw as he pushed into her again and again. His own breath came out in groans and growls of pleasure, as he quickly began to unravel. He gazed down to watch her.

Her face was one of blissful ecstacy. Her mouth hung open, as she called out 'ohs' and mewed his name. He was completely taken with how seductive she looked, even when she didn't realize it. His body won out as he succumbed to pleasure. He thrust into her, more erratic and uneven in pace. Molly clung onto him tightly. Her legs wrapped round his hips, and he could feel the heels of her stilettos digging into his flesh. She clenched around him, as she, too, unraveled. They came together, sighing and moaning each other's names. Sherlock collapsed onto her, and she lovingly stroked his hair and his back. They stayed in their position on the couch, wrapped in each other. Sherlock's breathing returned to normal, and he looked down to Molly, who was smiling, her eyes closed, as she calmed her own breath. 'Mine.' He thought. 'She's all mine. She looked up to him after a moment.

''So, what am I going to do about my rent, since I'm obviously not going to strip again?" She asked, smiling at him mischievously. The question confirmed his inner thoughts of his possessive nature.

''Oh, I think we can arrange for something.'' He smiled down to her, and kissed her on the forehead. They soon drifted off to sleep.

OoOo

John and Mary had enjoyed their impromptu date, and were now walking up the stairs to 221B.

''Do you think they worked it out?" John asked her, as he stepped behind her on the stairs. She chuckled, and proceeded to open the door. She stopped suddenly, causing John to bump into her. She turned around to shush him, and pointed into the flat.

''Does that answer your question?" She whispered. The sight before them was the only confirmation he needed. Clothes were strewn about the room, all leading to the couch. The back of the sofa hid the bodies, but John and Mary could clearly make out four feet hanging from the end of the armrest. Two were bare, and two wore a set of beautiful heels. The feet lay there lazily, tangled amidst each other. Mary pointed for John to back out of the doorway. They quietly closed the door behind them.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Told you there'd be more oohlala's. Lol. Tell me what you think. Thanks for the reads, and keep reviewing! Love you lot! Bye dears!


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you to all the readers, as well as to the people who reviewed last chaspter:

Magicstrikes- that line popped into my head out of nowhere, I had to use it. Lol.

Thestarlitrose- I'm glad you are enjoying the fic. Couple more chapters left.

Ligya- lol. That's funny. Not too shabby of a scene for a virgin writer, I t##ake it? Glad you liked it.

Feyfangirl- lol. I like the wide eyed dude. O.O he's cute.

Juze- I think John would have been more apt to go in, were it not for Mary being with him, mainly because he wouldn't have noticed. Lol

Petra Todd- glad you like it, it actually took me forever to write it because I wanted it to be perfect, so I'm glad you like it.

Almightyswot- squeals...glad you liked it enough to squeal. :D

I don't own anything Sherlock or Molly. Bummer.

Chapter eleven:

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Sherlock had woken sometime in the night, his mop of curls sticking to his face. His face was laying on something smooth and warm. He picked his head up, and gazed up the plains of cream colored skin and up to Molly's face. Her eyes were closed, and she wore a serene smile on her sleeping face. Sherlock carefully pushed himself off the couch, trying not to stir her. He then picked her up and quietly carried her to his bedroom. Molly let out an unconscious sigh as he laid her in his bed. Sherlock stood above her, taking note of her form. He bent down at the foot of his bed, and carefully undid the small buckles on her heels. Her feet naturally reflexed closer to her as his hand brushed past the bottom of her arch. He set the shoes aside, and decided he would linger with her a bit longer. Sherlock carefully crawled into the bed on the other side, and pulled the white sheets over them both. He watched her, memorizing the way her lips parted, mapping the amount of breaths she took in an hour. He catalogued every detail he could about her as she slept. He eventually decided to leave her to rest, his mind obviously not tired. Sherlock pulled a spare sheet around him, and walked out to the living room. John was seated in his chair, glancing at the paper. Sherlock strode past and into the kitchen.

''Well, good morning. How was your evening?" John asked cheekily. Sherlock ignored the question, and proceeded in making tea for two. John shook his head, and turned slightly in his chair to stare at the tall pale man. He looked like a sleepy Greek god, wrapped up in a white toga sheet. His hair was ruffled and out of sorts. John grinned slightly, and Sherlock turned to return to the sofa.

''John. How was your evening with Mary? I trust the movie was worth the admission fee?" Sherlock asked sardonically. John rolled his eyes before answering.

''Yes, Sherlock. The movie was good. Mary and I had a lovely time. Meanwhile, you were here...with Molly. How did that go?" He asked. He saw Sherlock grin from the side of his mouth.

''She was very convincing in her speech to me as to why she felt I neglected her. She was wrong, of course, but all is right in the world. The balance has been restored, as it were.'' He said in his clipped tone. John's grin grew as he looked around the room, the evidence still scattered on the floor.

''So, that's it then? She talked...and you listened?" He asked, slightly incredulously.

''Yes, well. She was very...persuasive...in making her case.'' He said, turning his head to the side, and reaching for his tea. John now grinned from ear to ear, as he sat forward in his seat.

''You totally shagged her.'' He stated. Sherlock opened his mouth, and was cut off immediately by John holding up his hand.

''No, nope. Don't even try to tell me it didn't happen. If you wanted to keep it a secret, you shouldn't have taken off your clothes and left them about the living room.'' He said, his head pointed toward the scattered garments. Sherlock sat still, before he attempted to speak again.

''John, I was not going to deny it, merely that -'' John looked at him.

''Sherlock, it's okay. I'm glad you finally worked out your feelings for the girl. The next time she's over, at least leave a sock on the door. Had Mary and I walked in earlier, we may had seen some things...'' John continued on in his Rantings. Sherlock rolled his eyes and waited for the inevitable. As John spoke, there was a small sound emerging from hallway. Molly walked out, also only covered by a sheet. Her hair was curly and messed up, and her body had a pinkish glow to it.

''Sherlock, have you seen my bra-'' she cut her thought short upon seeing John. He looked back at her, a deep blush rising to his cheeks. Sherlock chuckled.

''Oh John, you see, yet still lack observational skills. If you had looked closer to the evidence, you would have seen two sets of clothing, not just the one.'' He said, walking toward one of the small piles, and picking it up. He then walked over to Molly, and handed it to her.

''Here you are, Molly. Brassiere and underwear, as well as blouse and slacks. All accounted for.'' He said, placing the clothes into her arms, before leaning in to kiss her cheek. He leaned into her ear and whispered seductively.

''Your shoes are in my bedroom.'' Molly blushed before wordlessly excusing herself to get dressed. John's eyes were still wide, his mouth gaping just slightly. Sherlock laughed at the sight.

''I did try to tell you she was still here. Yet, you insisted on yammering away.'' John's face flushed again, as he let out a nervous chuckle. Molly came out moments later, and grabbed her large bag from the floor.

''Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, sounding slightly sad. She chuckled and kissed him on the lips.

''I have to go quit a certain ''waitressing'' job.'' She said with a wink, her fingers poised in air quotations. He grinned, and followed her with his eyes as she left.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Well. Only one more chapter to go. Kind of an epilogue sort of thing, just to prepare yourselves. I'll post it later in the day, after I edit it. Hope you like this chapter. I wrote it at work. Lol. Thanks for all the stuff...and stuff. Love you my dears!


	13. Chapter 13

And here is the final installment...I'm kinda sad. Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve

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Molly had gone to The White Horse one final time. She bid Bianca and the ladies goodbye, and started to walk out. She looked over to the bar, where a tearful Paul stood, a single red rose in his hand. She ran over to him, and pressed a kiss to his wrinkled cheek. He patted her arm, and she smiled down to him. Their exchange was wordless, but spoke volumes to her. Eventually life had gone back to normal, with one slight change. She had Sherlock wrapped around her delicate finger. He was still cruel at times, and often would go days without speaking to her, much in the same way he treated John. But when he grew bored, or when he needed to muddle through the details of a case, she received a lavish amount of attention. He would come visit her at the hospital, sometimes to use her lab equipment or to nick body parts. Other times, it was for far more nefarious purposes. Molly enjoyed the new control she held over the man who had reduced her to a puddle for so many years. She felt more confident, and no longer stuttered when he let his sociopathic tendencies fly harsh words at her. It was a far better partnership for the both of them

OoOo

Molly had left St. Bart's and headed home one day. When she arrived, her things were being placed into boxes, and the boxes onto a moving truck. She wandered through the rooms, trying to find a face she knew. He stood there, by the window of her bedroom, gazing out to the street.

''Sherlock? What's going on?" She asked as she touched his arm. He turned and smiled at her.

''I told you we would arrange for something. I have taken the liberty of finding you a much more affordable flat with a terrific manager. Much closer to the hospital, as well as to me.'' He said, his chin raising proudly. Molly's eyebrow raised, unsure of this ''marvelous'' location.

''Oh? And where, pray tell, did you find such wonderful accommodations?'' She smirked.

''221C Baker Street. I realize, of course, it is a basement apartment; but I assure you, Mrs. Hudson is London's finest landlady, and the neighbors upstairs are quite keen.'' He grinned at her boyishly. She giggled. The two oversaw the rest of the move, as the workers loaded the things into the truck, and drove to her new home. They swiftly unpacked things, and had set them up to her exact specifications.

''Where did you find such brilliant movers?" She asked curiously. Sherlock smiled from the corner of his mouth.

''Oh, my big brother owed me a favor. Hardly a tall order to deliver upon.'' She pulled him down to her face by the lapels of his coat, and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

OoOo

It had been a month since Molly's move, and she had settled into the new living arrangement perfectly. She had grown quite attached to Mrs. Hudson already, and she often would visit with her for hours on end. She had decided she missed certain aspects of her old second job. She decided that she wanted to fix that feeling and soon sought out to change it.

OoOo

Sherlock heard a knock at the door. He called for her to enter, having already deduced that it was, in fact, Molly at the door. She entered, and stood in the doorway.

''Sherlock, there's something downstairs you need to have a look at.'' She said, sounding almost shy. Sherlock grumbled impatiently, as he gazed up from his microscope.

''Not now, Molly. I'm in the middle of an experiment.'' He said childishly. Molly walked over to him, the sound of her high heels drawing his head up to see her. She pulled on his arm from the crook of his elbow.

''NOW. Sherlock.'' She demanded, her face deviously authoritative. Sherlock's eyes lit up, and he soon found himself following her down the stairs to her flat. He loved how bossy Molly had become with him at times, and it quickly became a form of foreplay for them. Molly opened the door to her flat, and guided him in through the door of her bedroom. His eyes widened with excitement at what he saw.

In the corner of the room, stretching from floor to ceiling, was a large, silver pole. It was held in place by tension plates on either end, and gleamed with an unused shimmer. Sherlock felt himself being pushed onto the bed, and he snapped his attention to Molly, who had begun to strip off her coat. She winked at him, and walked to press the 'play' button on her CD player.

Sherlock leaned back and enjoyed the show.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Well, that's it dears! I figured I'd leave the ending kind of open, just in case. As of right now, this concludes this lovely little tale, as all good things must eventually come to an end. If you have a prompt that you'd like me to take a swing at, I'm open for that. Thank you so much for the overwhelmingly awesome support through this one. Love you all dearies!


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